It was Saturday and Soda had got home early from the gas station. Darry wasn't here. He'd taken to working later, sometimes seven days a week, determined to put me through college when the time came. If I tried to talk him out of it, he'd get the same stubborn expression on his face that Mom used to have sometimes when we wouldn't listen to her.
I watched Soda piling the ingredients for chocolate cake on the kitchen counter and tried not to think about how I needed to finish my algebra. I don't normally do homework on the weekend, but I had some extra left over and I figured that if Darry was working so hard himself I might as well do my part even if it was Christmas break.
"Hey, Soda," I said, grabbing one of the beat up chairs we kept in the kitchen and flopping down onto it, "What do you think we could get Darry for Christmas?"
He looked up at me, but kept mixing the cake batter. A little of it slopped over the sides of the bowl.
"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what he wants."
That was true enough. Darry didn't voice his wants anymore than Soda and me did. Most of the time, it would just be useless wishing and I guess we all figured that it wasn't worth the trouble of getting worked up about something that we'd never have.
All I knew for sure is that Darry wanted to be back in school and I had no idea how that would ever happen.
Soda poured the batter into the baking pan and once it was in the oven, he looked up at me. "You need a haircut, Ponyboy."
Automatically, I shook my head.
"Come on," he said. "Might as well get it done before Darry gets home or he'll be after you about it soon enough."
Darry always wanted us to look as respectable as possible, though he never could have made us keep our hair as short and un-greased as he liked his. He'd never even tried because he knew how important it was to us.
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and sighed. My hair was getting too long, even by our gang's standards. I ran my hand through it. It looked pretty good, now that all my own reddish brown hair had grown out through the peroxide.
"Fine," I said, trying to sound grouchy and succeeding pretty well. "Just don't cut it all off."
Soda grinned and while I got settled on one of the kitchen chairs, he dug around in the drawers, looking for the scissors. He sometimes dried the dishes when we did them together and when he did we could never find a thing afterwards. Maybe because his mind was always on other things.
We could afford haircuts but Darry preferred not pay for them because we could do them ourselves for free and we'd gotten quite good at it.
Darry would have cut my hair any time, if I'd asked him, but I liked it better when Soda did it. Darry always cut it too short for my liking.
The scissors slipped a little. "Ouch!"
"Sorry," Soda said. "Just hold still." So I bit my tongue and tried not to wiggle while Soda worked on in silence.
To tell the truth, me and Soda didn't talk all that much anymore. We were still best friends and all, but Soda was working longer hours now, same as Darry, and I was so busy at school that we didn't see each other much at all during the day. Except on Saturdays, like today, and Sundays which were his days off.
"All right, I'm done," Soda finally said. He stepped back and I ran to the bathroom. My hair didn't look too bad. He'd evened out the rough patches and it wasn't too long, but it wasn't too short either. I ran a comb through it a couple times and it looked even better
"Thanks, Soda," I said, coming back into the kitchen where Soda was sweeping up the chopped-off bits of my hair. I got some homework from my room to do out in the kitchen.
When I got back, Steve had dropped in for a visit and soon he and Soda were talking a whole lot, about all sorts of different, mostly distracting things. I was just about to ask them to shut up and let me finish my algebra in peace when the phone rang.
Soda answered it and Steve stopped talking for a minute, so I went on with my homework. Soda was talking quietly to whoever was on the other end, and he was so quiet that I forgot to ask who'd called until I realized that Soda had hung up and nobody was talking anymore. I looked up. Soda's face was whiter than a sheet.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"It's Darry," Soda said. "He's hurt bad."
I felt the colour drain from my own face. Steve swore, I think, but there was a rushing sound in my ears and I couldn't understand him. All I could hear was Soda saying something about an accident over on Pine Street and some other guy and Darry had fallen and the doctor wanted us to come over to the hospital right away.
Steve said "We'll get Two-Bit's car" and Soda nodded, his face so white and tense I thought he might collapse right there.
I ran out the door after the two of them as we raced down the road to Two-Bit's place, hoping that he'd be there and that his car would be too.
Not again, I thought miserably. Oh, please, not again. It had only been two months since Johnny...and Dally... Now Darry was in the hospital and we couldn't afford to lose Darry, none of us could. But that was what I'd said about Johnny too and he was gone just the same.
So we kept running and when we reached Two-Bit's house, we couldn't see him anywhere, but his car was there, so Steve hot-wired it. Two-Bit would be worried when he got back from wherever he was and his car wasn't here, but I figured that we could explain later.
"What else did the doc say?" Steve asked Soda once he was driving and Soda was sitting beside him and I was in the back seat.
Soda stared out the car window. He was still and silent and his face was still whiter than a sheet. "Didn't say anything else," he finally said. "Just that Darry'd had a fall and we needed to come right away." His voice was steady. If I'd tried to speak right then, I'd probably have started bawling.
Steve swore again and gunned the motor. I figured we were about fifteen miles off the speed limit, but it didn't seem important. Darry was in the hospital.
#####
When we got there and explained who we were – Soda and I lied and said Steve was our brother so that he could get in too – they finally let us see Darry. There were a couple of machines beeping and Darry had a really thick bandage over his forehead and his eyes were closed. I wouldn't have thought that anyone could look paler than Soda right then, but Darry did. None of it seemed real.
"He's lost a lot of blood," the doctor said, like he'd read my thoughts.
Soda's fists were shoved into his jeans' pockets, but he wasn't trying to look tough or impressive or hood-ish. He looked vulnerable, staring at Darry with this aching look on his face. Steve looked plenty mean, but that was just the way he was. I didn't know what I looked like. Probably a scared kid because that's what I was right then.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Steve asked when Soda and I didn't say a word.
The doctor looked serious. When he spoke, his voice was serious, too. "I don't know, son. Like I said, he lost a lot of blood from that head injury. I don't know right now, but we're keeping a close eye on him. His right leg is broken as well, but it should heal more quickly than his head. Your brother is in a coma but I believe he can pull through; he's young and strong and has a good chance, a better chance than some."
He smiled and his smile was sympathetic, but it didn't make me feel any better. From the stricken look on Soda's face, the doctor's words hadn't done much good for him either.
"You're welcome to stay here for now," the doctor added. I knew Soda had already planned on that and I had, too. Steve probably wouldn't stay around, though. Maybe for a little while, but being cooped up inside the hospital – even with Darry hurt – would drive him crazy.
Again, it was like someone read my mind because when the doctor left, Steve said he was going to take the car back to Two-Bit's place. He doesn't likes hospitals much. Who does? This one tried to look cheery, with Christmas decorations in the halls but it just didn't work.
Once Steve had left and it was me and Soda alone with Darry, I expected Soda to say something, maybe even break down, but he just stood there, staring at Darry, not making a sound. I paced around a little and ended up sitting on the chair beside Darry's bed, but Soda didn't move at all and for the first time in a long time, I was really worried about him. It wasn't like he was ashamed to cry in front of me...I'd seen him cry lots of times, like when Mom and Dad died or when Mickey Mouse was sold or that night when he ran out of the house 'cause Darry and me were fighting too much.
Soda'd always been Darry's favorite, which didn't bother me. Darry and I were brothers and all, but there was something special about Soda and I couldn't resent him for being Darry's favorite when he was mine as well. The three of us got together fine most of the time. But I guess I never knew before how close Soda was to Darry because sitting here, looking at him, it was like he was hurt worse than Darry.
"Soda?"
He looked over at me and a little spark came back into his eyes but he still sure didn't look like the brother I knew. "Oh, Pony-" His face twisted and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but nothing came out. I stood up and went over to him.
"You'd better sit down," I said.
He didn't argue, but sat down and sort of crumpled in on himself once he did. He didn't cry, but he was still shaking, more than ever. I was about to call for a nurse, worried that he was making himself sick, when a sound came from Darry. We both looked up.
Darry's eyes were still closed and the words he said were nonsense, mostly, but it got Soda's attention. "Hey, Darry. Can you hear me?" he said softly.
There wasn't any response from Darry, but just hearing his voice had done Soda good. Brought him back to reality. He'd stopped shaking so much and his eyes were mostly back to normal. I guessed he was thinking that if Darry woke up once, he could do it again. That's what I was thinking anyway.
A nurse walked in. "Your brothers are here to see you," she said dryly as Steve and Two-Bit barrelled in. She probably didn't believe they were really our brothers – there's a strong family resemblance between Darry and Soda and me that Steve and Two-Bit just didn't share. The nurse gave me and Soda a long look before she left, but at least she didn't turn us in.
Two-Bit was shaking his head and Steve looked trapped.
"Pretty bad?" Two-Bit finally said.
"Yeah," I answered. Soda was still staring at Darry with a bleak, pleading expression on his face.. Two-Bit didn't ask anything more; Steve had probably explained everything to him on the way over here. "He said something a couple minutes ago," I added. "We couldn't understand it, though."
Two-Bit's jaw was clenched really tight and he was as serious like I'd never seen him except one time before. "We'll stick around, Pony."
I nodded. "Thanks." There wasn't much else to say.
#####
Over the next couple of days, Soda and I lived at the hospital, taking turns sleeping in the chair – when we could sleep, which wasn't often – and buying food from the hospital cafeteria – when we felt like eating, which was even less often. Darry didn't wake up and the doctor said that there wasn't much change.
One thing Darry never did was call out for anyone. Either he wasn't awake enough to do that or there just wasn't anyone he'd ever depended on enough to need right then.
Steve somehow found out more about what had happened the day of the accident. Darry and another guy had been working on a roof, and Darry'd been carrying two bundles of roofing at a time, same as always. It was something Soda and I always scolded him about, but he never would listen to us. Anyway, the one guy was up on the roof and Darry was climbing up a ladder with the roofing when the guy slipped on some shingles and started to fall. Darry dropped the bundles and tried to catch the guy but he missed him and lost his balance and he fell too. And when did, the ladder fell on top of him. He split his head on one of the bundles of roofing that'd been dropped. The other guy had died of a broken neck.
When Soda and I heard all that, we just looked at each other and then back to Darry. I don't know what was going through Soda's head, but I was plenty frightened at the thought that it could have been Darry with a broken neck, just that easy.
#####
"Ponyboy," Soda said on the third day. "I've got to go back to work. I don't want to, but we can't go around spending all our money on food here and not bringin' anything in." He sighed. "I have to go back. If Mr. Hinslow hasn't given my job away already."
"Steve will have kept your job for you," I said, not sure what I'd do without him here. Though I felt sure that the hospital staff wanted to get rid of him, the way he kept pestering them for updates about Darry. Not that we couldn't see how Darry was doing for ourselves, but I guess Soda wanted the official version.
So Soda left and I sat with Darry all that day. Luckily it was winter break so I didn't have school to worry about. I could've done with the some studying, though. There was a big exam coming up in the middle of January and I'd been worried about it before Darry got hurt. Now it didn't seem to matter much. But I couldn't afford bad marks, not if I hoped to get any kind of scholarship – and that's what Darry had been counting on for me.
When Steve and Two-Bit showed up next, I'd ask one of them to drive me back to our house so I could get my school books.
#####
Two-Bit dropped me off and said he'd wait in the car. He turned on the radio as he said it and by the time I had walked up the steps to our front door, rock 'n' roll music was pouring from the stereo.
When I entered the house, it was cold and dark and empty and it made me shiver. I have an overactive imagination at the best of times and it didn't take much to set me on edge now. I switched on a bunch of lights as quick as I could. Soda must've come back and turned them off before he left for work.
I threw a couple books in my school bag and clattered down the stairs to the kitchen. The quiet was getting to me again and I almost looked over my shoulder a couple times. What I expected to see, I didn't know.
"Might as well make some sandwiches," I said aloud. And then the telephone rang and I just about jumped out of my skin.
When my heartbeat went back to normal, I took down the receiver. "Hello?"
"Ponyboy?" It was Mr. Syme. Why would he be calling?
"It's me, Mr. Syme," I said. "Is something wrong?"
"I wanted to ask you the same question. I was just about to come over there," said Mr. Syme. "Is everything all right? I've called several times."
Quickly, I glanced around the kitchen. We hadn't stopped to clean anything, of course, when we got the call about Darry. Soda's chocolate cake was sitting out on the counter, raw batter in the mixing bowl. And the rest of the house wasn't much better. And it was empty.
"Don't come over." I probably sounded rude, but I didn't have time to talk. Darry could be awake right now and I wouldn't know about it until I got back. "Why'd you call so many times?"
"Well, I wanted to discuss something with Darrel."
Darry... "Something about me?"
"No, no, nothing like that." There was a long pause. Then, "I'd prefer to do this in person, but it's getting late. Is Darrel there?"
I swallowed hard. "No," was all I could manage just then. I don't know what exactly kept me from confiding in Mr. Syme. He already knew more about me than even some of our gang, ever since I'd handed in that last English assignment. I hadn't even showed it to Darry or Soda – there hadn't been enough time after I wrote the whole thing down.
"Do you have any idea when he'll be available?" Mr. Syme asked.
Just hang up, I thought to myself. But I didn't. Instead, I told him everything that had happened, kind of like how I let the story of Johnny and Dally and Bob spill out of me and onto paper all those weeks ago. "The doctors don't know when he'll wake up."
My traitorous mind echoed If...but I shoved the thought aside.
"Ponyboy-" Mr. Syme began, but then hesitated. "I'm sorry. I'll come over to the hospital right away."
"No," I said quickly. "I'll let you know when Darry wakes up and you can talk to him then."
"Well, if you don't want me to come-" Mr. Syme sighed. "Fair enough. I just want you to know – and Darrel, too, when he comes around – that I've been talking to a few people, showing them Darrel's grades, and they're prepared to offer your brother a scholarship to Tulsa U if he's willing to take it."
I had to sit down. "A scholarship?" I stumbled over the words.
"Yes. They were very impressed with Darrel's scholastic and athletic achievements."
"You didn't show them my assignment?" I asked suddenly.
"No. No, I didn't. Not without your permission, Ponyboy."
I was relieved. Though I knew that everyone needed to know about what us greasers faced every day – and the Socs too – I'd been dead honest with what I'd written and now, thinking back, the idea of people reading all that honesty scared the life out of me. Sometimes I wished I could take the words back and that I'd never handed them in to Mr. Syme. But people had to know and I'd rather he was the first than pretty much anyone else right now.
"Thank you, sir. Darry'll want to take it."
"That's fine." Mr. Syme let out a sigh. "I won't keep you away from your brother any longer. Good night, Ponyboy."
"Good night," I said and set the receiver back in its place. My mind was spinning with a hundred different thoughts, but the one that pushed to the front of the line just then was that I'd better make those sandwiches so that Soda and me wouldn't have to spend any more money on the hospital's cafeteria food. So I made them.
And while I made up the sandwiches, I thought about what Mr. Syme had said.
Darry would flip out – in a good way – when he heard the news, but there was still the problem of how exactly we'd have enough money to live on. Soda worked full time at the DX as it was and there was no way I'd be able to get a job and still make it through school. But maybe Darry would still work weekends or something...there had to be a way. There were loans available for students too – I'd heard of them.
Darry had always wanted to get some higher education and this was probably his only chance. Whatever we all had to do to make it possible, we'd do it and without complaining either.
Everything would be all right. If only Darry would wake up soon...
#####
I burst into Darry's hospital room, hoping to see some change in him but there wasn't any. He still looked really white, like his tan was fading away more and more, and he looked weaker in that hospital bed than I'd ever seen him look in his life. Lying there, head still bandaged, unconscious, he'd looked a lot younger than twenty and even more like Dad than I was used to remembering.
That same nurse as before came in to take a look at all the monitors and wires they had Darry hooked up to. She gave me a sort of half-smile and I smiled back, but I didn't much mean it.
"You were here before, weren't you?" the nurse said as she looked at Darry and wrote something down on her clipboard.
"Yeah," I said shortly, hoping that would be the end of it. I didn't really feel like talking about my past experiences here. Whatever way you looked at it, they were too painful to think about for another lifetime or so.
"Ponyboy, right?"
I nodded. It's not an easy name to forget.
"Yes, I remember you." But that was all she said. I was thankful for that.
Soda came back late that night. I gave him the chair and he sagged down into it. He had on his leather jacket and he held mine in one hand. "I went back to the house to get some stuff," he said tiredly. "A bunch of lights were on."
"I went back to get some books," I said. I hadn't thought to turn off the lights before I left. Darry was right about me. I don't use my head.
Soda reached over and handed me my leather jacket. "Just don't forget to turn 'em off next time, okay? We don't need a big electrical bill right now."
"Sure," I agreed and pulled on the jacket.
There was a lump in the left pocket and when I looked, there was Johnny's copy of Gone With The Wind. That hit me hard, though I'd seen it often enough. Every day, in fact. I kept it on my desk, sort of back in a corner, but there anyway. I looked up at Soda. "Why'd you bring this along?" My voice was sharper than I imagined it would be.
"It was on your desk. I figured you might like something to read while you're here and that sure is the longest book in the house," he said, eyes closed and head resting on the back of the chair.
Of course, Soda didn't know what the book meant to me. I didn't even know myself, for sure, but it had been Johnny's and there was that bit, the bit about the Southern gentlemen and gallantry, and I didn't want to think about any of it. Especially not right now, with Darry hurt so bad. I could only handle so much at once. But I said "Thanks, Soda" anyway because he'd been looking out for me like he always did.
I shoved the book back into my pocket and said "How was work?"
"Fine. Steve wasn't there but Mr. Hinslow said he'd told him all about it. He said he'd save my job for me as long as he could if I didn't want to go back just yet. But I told him I would." He looked over at Darry. "I can't sit around and do nothing, Pony."
I nodded. "Yeah...I know."
Me, I'd have rather been here than at home wondering about Darry all the time. But Darry and me'd never been as close as Darry and Soda were, so I could stand it a little better than Soda, I think.
"You should go home," Soda said to me. "Get some sleep, some real sleep.."
"I can sleep here fine," I said.
"Have you looked in the mirror lately? You're gettin' thinner every day. You haven't been eating right either." Soda stood up and his voice rose with him. "I mean it, Ponyboy."
"You can't make me leave," I said and worked hard to keep from shouting or else the doctor would come in and then we'd both have to leave. And I didn't want to shout at Soda anyway.
"Look, I can stay with him at night 'cause I'm not working. And then you can be here during the day." Soda's voice softened. "I don't want you to get sick, too. Please, Ponyboy?"
So I gave in. I didn't have the heart to worry Soda if I could help it.
#####
The next day, after Soda left for the gas station, I took out Gone With The Wind and just stared at the cover. It was a good story, alright, and I was bored here, with no one to talk to and only a bunch of worries to keep me company, but when I opened the cover and read the first few words, I got sick to my stomach. And not just thinking about getting sick, but really sick. Like I was eating bologna again or attending Johnny's funeral for a second time.
I slammed the book shut. The doctor walked in and I asked him how Darry was doing.
He frowned. "Much the same, I'm afraid." After checking a couple things, he went to the door and was about to leave when he paused and looked back. Only, the look wasn't at me, but at the book. "You know," he said, "it might be a good idea to read aloud to your brother, if you're reading anyway."
"Aloud?"
He nodded. "Yes. I'm not sure if it will work or not, but I have heard of one or two cases very much like your brother's, where the patient came out of their coma because they heard a family member or friend's voice. Quite plausible. I can't promise that it would happen in this case, but it's worth a try, don't you think?" I nodded and he nodded. "Good. I'll be back in a little while to see if anything has changed."
He was gone before I could explain that I couldn't read this book out loud. I'd read it out loud to Johnny in that week up in Windrixville and I was sure that if I started that up again, I'd throw up or something. But I didn't have any other books and there was no one around to help me get another one and, shoot, I had to do something. Darry was my brother. I couldn't let him keep sleeping until maybe he-
I couldn't let him keep sleeping when I could do something about it.
So I sort of bullied myself into thinking that this was like reading any other book. I tried to forget Johnny and just read, but that's easier said than done, especially when it's your voice alone making noise in a hushed hospital room and it sounds so much louder and bigger than you're used to. But after I'd got through the first page or so, reading as fast as I could, it wasn't so bad. I sort of lost myself in the story and didn't think of anything else. Gone With The Wind is the kind of book that people think only girls read, but there's some good stuff in it. And I'd dug the movie too. Eventually the words began to blur together and I couldn't understand the story anymore but I just kept reading, probably in the most boring voice ever, but I kept it up for Darry's sake.
After a while, my voice gave out and I had to stop because Darry couldn't have heard me even if he was awake. But I felt good. I'd read the first four chapters and hadn't thought about Johnny much – trust me, I did enough of that anyway – and even if it hadn't made much of a difference, it felt good to do something to help instead of just sitting around.
When the doctor came back, he said that there wasn't any real change but to keep trying.
I told Soda what I'd done later on that day and he seemed relieved, maybe because it was something we could do. "Think it'll work?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. Can't hurt, anyway."
"Well, keep readin', then," Soda said. "I will too."
I looked over at Darry, so far away, and back to Soda who was working longer hours than he ever had before and trying to keep up a brave front because he was already thinking of himself as the oldest Curtis brother. And I decided that if he was being strong, I could be too and I could push aside the memories and keep on reading for Darry.
"We're goin' to be okay, Ponyboy," Soda said and I nodded.
"Sure."
"Here," he said, "I'll read some right now." He pulled the book out of my jacket pocket before I could stop him and sat down on the floor, cross-legged. He had to be tired but I knew he wanted Darry awake more than anything else right now and if reading would get him there, Soda would read until next year. Which wasn't really all that far away, it being-
"Hey, Soda," I exclaimed, surprised. "It's Christmas Eve."
He paused and thought for a moment and then smiled. "You're right." Then he shrugged and began to read.
I'd never heard Soda read out loud before, but he did a good job. Probably better than I'd done. He had a kind of strange quality to his voice when he read the dialogue, so that you could almost imagine the characters were really talking. Even the girls. I curled up in the chair and went right to sleep, dozing off to the sound of Soda's voice.
#####
The clock on the wall said two o'clock when I woke up, two in the morning. It was Christmas morning and Soda was still reading. And Darry's eyes were open and looking straight at him. I leaped out of the chair and gave a sort of choked yelp and Soda looked up and saw Darry and nearly tackled him. Only, he stopped himself just in time and stood there, grinning down at Darry as hard as he could. The main thing I felt right then was relief – relief at having Darry back, responsible Darry. Together, the three of us could take on the world if we wanted to.
"Hey, little buddy," Darry said, smiling at Soda, then at me. His voice was scratchy and tired, but it was Darry's voice. I grinned back at him, almost as wide as Soda.
Soda looked like he might start crying, he was so happy. I didn't feel too far away from that myself.
"How long have I been out?" Darry asked.
I didn't know how many days exactly, but I told him what I did know. "It's Christmas."
There were no presents this year, worried as we'd been, but I thought of what Mr. Syme had told me and I knew that was the best present any of us would ever be given. And, suddenly, I couldn't bear to keep it to myself anymore.
"Hey, Darry," I began and I couldn't keep the grin off my face as I told him and Soda everything.
The End